


Disavowed

by Shadow_Side



Series: Disavowed [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark fic, DarkPilot, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Interrogation, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5935837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Side/pseuds/Shadow_Side
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following his capture on Jakku, Poe Dameron is not rescued by a rogue Stormtrooper who needs a pilot. He is left behind.</p><p>This is what comes next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disavowed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Davechicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/gifts).



> …Then this happened. Just in case any of you still thought I was the Good One. #SorryNotSorry

The thing about torture is that it's never all physical.

Yes, you can make it mostly physical. Make it about pain, about pressure, about keeping someone in a state of bodily anguish, but it is never _just_ this. The point, after all, is the psychology of it. The physicality of it is just a means to an end.

With Kylo Ren, the physicality is – at most – an accompaniment. He can inflict bodily pain, oh yes, but somehow it feels like an afterthought. The mind is his focus, his speciality. His _plaything_.

This is the problem. Poe Dameron knows he can resist a great deal of physical torture. No one can resist _forever_ , it's true, but his endurance – fuelled by his devotion to the Resistance – will keep him going longer than most. It's why the Stormtroopers can't get a word out of him, when they ask him over and over about the map to Luke Skywalker.

He won't tell them. They don't have what it takes to _make_ him tell them, because theirs is the realm of the physical, and the physical is not enough.

But Kylo Ren… Kylo Ren rips the truth from Poe's mind in minutes. Rips it out of him and leaves him breathless and washed-out and alone in the half-darkness, trying to process what's just happened.

Physical torture is one thing. But that… that was…

…no, no, no, don't think it. Don't use the word. It was only his mind. It wasn't…

 _No_.

Besides. The greatest pain that Poe Dameron is experiencing right now isn't Kylo Ren's doing – not truly – and it certainly isn't the Stormtroopers' doing.

It's… the choice Poe himself made. But _he made it_ , and they can't take that away from him, no matter what they do.

When he came out here, out to Jakku, out in search of the map that could – that still might – save the galaxy, Poe knew the risks, the dangers, the ramifications if he was captured. He was flying under Republic colours, yes, but the Republic can't be seen to publically support the Resistance. They _do_ , but they can't _say_ they do. Which means his actions will be explained away as those of a rogue soldier, should anyone ever ask, and not as those of a man on a mission for the Resistance.

He'll be disavowed. The Republic cannot help him. The Resistance cannot come after him.

He is here, and he is alone, and if he can't save himself, no one else will.

And it's a fate he's accepted.

 _That_ is the greatest pain.

***

The questions don't stop with the map.

Poe doesn't know how long he's been kept in a cell, but he _does_ know, when the Stormtroopers drag him out and strap him back into that chair, that he's in trouble. He knows, when Kylo Ren comes stalking into the room once more, black-clad and menacing and running _hot_ , that it's going to end badly.

It does. The first time, Ren was obviously in a hurry. Eager for the single answer he needed. Eager to drag the truth from his prisoner and leave.

Not so, now. This time… this time he _takes_ his time. He asks about the Resistance Base. About their resources. Their plans. Their other spies.

He asks if anyone will come looking for Poe Dameron, now that he's been captured.

It's the only question Poe answers without a fight.

***

By the third day – is it the third? Poe can't quite remember anymore – the pain as the other man pushes into his head is all too familiar. It's the first time his resolve cracks, even if only a little. The first time he looks up with pleading eyes and begs Kylo Ren to stop.

It makes no difference. Ren finds the threads of thought in his prisoner's mind and pulls them to the fore until the name, " _D'Qar_ ," is on Poe's lips.

He can only hope and pray that – in the wake of his capture – the Resistance has already fled. Already gone somewhere he doesn't know about, somewhere he can never be forced to give up.

He can only hope that he hasn't just condemned them all to death.

Poe sits in the dark, when it's over, curled in the corner of his cell, knees pulled close. He'd give anything for a rescue. Anything for a way out. For a ship. For a chance. Anything.

Nothing ever comes. And he knows it never will.

***

On the fourth day – fourth? Fifth? How long has he been here? – Poe realises that Kylo Ren isn't done with him.

He's in the interrogation room, strapped into the chair, when the other man comes stalking through the doorway. There's a retort on Poe's lips, a flicker of defiance, ready to tell Ren precisely what he can go do with himself.

Only… that's when the pattern changes. There's a moment of silence, of consideration, of wordless threat, and then the other man reaches to take his mask off. A hiss and a click, and he's setting it down on a pedestal, moving in to stare down at Poe with his own eyes.

He's… not what Poe expected. Not at all. Except for the look on his face, the flicker of cruelty, of control, of…

…no, no, no…

"Get away from me," Poe gasps out, trying to keep the fear from slipping into his voice. Trying and failing. "You've stolen all the secrets from my mind. There's nothing left for you to take."

Kylo Ren smiles. Poe can't help feeling it's not something the other man often resorts to, even behind his mask, and the expression is so very cold.

"Ah… but that isn't strictly true, is it?" Ren says.

"You tell me," Poe retorts. "You're the one who likes messing with my head."

"Yes," the other man replies. "I _do_."

He lifts a gloved hand, moving it close to the side of Poe's face, hovering but not touching. And… Poe feels the presence in his mind, pushing in, pressing deeper, unstoppable, inescapable.

It hurts. It _hurts_. And not just on a physical level.

" _Stop_ ," he gasps. "…Please. Stop."

That only makes Ren push deeper into his mind, probing without taking, searching without questioning. It could be… _intimate_ … if they both wanted it to be.

But it isn't. It's the other thing. It's…

"… _Stop_."

" **No** ," Kylo Ren replies. "I won't. On the contrary. I'm going to take everything from you. I'm not just going to break you, I'm going to _shatter_ you."

"Why?" Poe demands.

"Because I _can_. Because I can take whatever I want from you and there is _nothing_ you can do about it."

"I won't let you. I won't give in to you."

"Precisely. You'll fight me all the way. That's what makes it interesting. And _that_ is why you will shatter long before I'm done with you."

"I won't. I…"

"You will, Dameron. You will."

Ren pushes deeper still, leaning right in, that spear of his mental presence driving all the way through Poe's mind. It hurts so badly that he cries out, jamming his eyes shut for a moment and howling through the pain, trying to make the vocalisation somehow lessen it.

It doesn't.

"Stop. Stop. I've told you everything. There's nothing more to take."

"There is _everything_ more to take."

It's a long, long time before Poe finally screams himself hoarse.

***

Day… Seven? Eight? Nine?

No idea. Poe knows something is amiss. He catches flickers of conversation from two Stormtroopers as he's being led from his cell, back to the interrogation room. Something about an assault on D'Qar, and an empty base, and both Ren and Hux being in extraordinarily bad moods.

Hope flares in Poe's heart.

Hope is the most dangerous emotion of all. It may invigorate a free man, but it will damn a trapped one.

The news is either true, or a warped, inexplicable lie, but Poe knows it's real when Ren stalks in, a storm of anger and rage, like a man looking for a target. Like a man who _has_ one. He takes his helmet off and slams it down, then rounds on his prisoner at once, lacing fingers through Poe's hair and yanking his head back with some force.

"They got away. You knew they would."

"You knew they would, too," Poe manages, trying to coast the worst of the pain.

"You're going to pay for it. I told you I'd take everything from you. Now you get to see precisely what that means."

And that's when the hand that isn't in his hair pushes between his legs. Poe tries to struggle away from it, tries to recoil, but he's held fast in the chair, and he can't escape. Horror floods up through his mind, burning in his chest, and Ren obviously feels it because the look on his face is shot with sudden pleasure.

" _Everything_ ," Ren repeats, to drive the point home, that invasive hand gripping firmly, the other continuing to hold Poe's head still as – with the Force – he pushes into his mind. But he's not searching for information this time, Poe can tell that much. Ren trips through his thoughts, through his senses, making different feelings spark brightly in him. Pleasure. Pain. Hot. Cold. Wanting. _Needing_.

" _Stop_ ," Poe whispers. He's pleading, now, but what else can he do?

"No," the other man says, flatly. "I won't."

And he doesn't. The hand between Poe's legs keeps rubbing firmly, forcefully, and Poe can't tell if his reaction to it is wholly the fault of what Ren is also doing to his head, or… only partially.

No, no, no.

He can't stop it. And he can't retreat into his own mind because _Kylo Ren is there too_.

And… that stroking, even through his clothing, it's… it's…

_No, no, no._

That is the worst part. The part where the other man keeps on stroking him until he's agonisingly hard, shot full of a need that leaves him cold and sick and _wanting_ , and then… lets go of him, all at once, breaking contact, stepping away.

"Not yet, Dameron," Ren nigh-on purrs. "Not yet."

***

Poe curls up in the dark of his cell, when it's all over, his whole body thrumming with sensation that he doesn't want and can't fight down. The need is so much stronger than he might have expected, if he'd had time to consider it in advance, and he can't work out how to respond to it.

The confliction is a special kind of agony. He _needs_ the other man to come back and finish what he started. He _also_ needs to make sure that Dark Side maniac never touches him again.

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. This is Ren playing with his head, and this is it working, and Poe needs to stop thinking about it because the thinking just makes it worse.

***

The next day is the same. And the next. And the next. And by this point, Poe is so out of his mind with need that it's almost a relief when he's dragged in to be tortured again. It may be anguish, physical and mental, but it's not blank walls and silence.

Only… this time, it's different. This time, the troopers walk him past the usual door and further onwards, eventually hauling him into a wide, empty room. Or… almost empty. There are chains hanging from the ceiling, and his knees buckle at the sight of them, at the inevitability of being dragged towards them, knowing how exposed and helpless he'll be when they…

It's worse. They don't just chain him up, arms spread tightly above his head. They strip him to the waist, first. He wonders, through the haze, as his mind struggles not to shut down, if they know what their boss has been doing to him. If it's common practice, common knowledge, or if he's still Kylo Ren's dirty little secret.

He fears it's the latter.

By the time Ren himself comes stalking in, Poe is almost dizzy from the pain in his arms, the ache in his wrists. He tries to keep his head up, tries to exude as much defiance as he can muster, as the other man takes off his mask and paces in close.

"Tell me something," the Darksider starts out. "Are you going insane with it, yet?"

"With what?" Poe throws back, jumping as Ren starts tracing a gloved hand over his chest.

"With _need_."

"You're the one who likes messing with my head. Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Ren smiles. "Because I want to hear you say it."

" _Make me_ ," Poe hisses.

This is clearly a mistake. " _Gladly_ ," Ren retorts.

The backhand comes out of nowhere, making Poe's head snap to the side, tasting blood on his lip. He only gets a few seconds to process the feeling before he's yanked back by the hair, the other man leaning in to speak softly, right beside his ear.

"You can't fight this. You know that. You know you _will_ be broken by the time I'm done with you. Do you even truly understand what that means? I'm not just going to hurt you. I'm not just going to make you say things. I am going to make you _want_ things…"

"You won't," Poe gasps. "You might make me say that I do, but deep down…"

"…Deep down, Dameron, you will _want_. Perhaps, on some level, you already do…"

"Never. Not _ever_. Get away from me."

And Ren smiles once more. " **No**."

That hand is pushed between Poe's legs again, stroking firmly, roughly, insistently. He's not strapped _down_ this time, so he tries to struggle away, but there's no give whatsoever in the chains holding his wrists up, and all he does is make his arms hurt even worse. And Ren… Ren keeps on stroking him through his clothing, other hand sliding into his hair and yanking his head back once more. The position alone is torture, and Poe can feel himself shaking from the agony of it, from the effort needed to hold in the scream threatening to slip his lips.

"Give in to it. To me. I might even stop the pain, when you do."

" _Fuck you_ ," the oh-so-grounded pilot gasps, with as much venom behind the words as he can muster. " _Fuck. You._ "

"Not quite…" the Darksider retorts and… Poe feels the man push into his mind. It _hurts_ when he does, a rough insistence and a penetration that – though not physical – seems somehow a thousand times worse.

Poe is not going to beg. He is not. He will not. He…

"…I can feel your need," Ren purrs, very close to his ear. "You're trying to deny it, but it's there, deep down. I see it. I _feel_ it, coiled around your thoughts. You're telling yourself you don't want this, but part of you does. Part of you wonders where this is going. Part of you has imagined it, over and over…"

This… is too much. Poe closes his eyes, his cheeks flushing hot. Part of him _has_ imagined it, in the dark of his cell. He's never dared act on it, never dared finish what his captor keeps starting, but… he hasn't been able to hold back the thoughts. Not really.

"Your mind betrays you, Dameron. Perhaps this would be easier if you just admitted what you want."

"No. I won't. I _don't_."

"You do. It's burning you up inside. I understand that. But… sooner or later, you'll surrender to it."

"… _Stop_ ," Poe chokes out. The pain is starting to fade into the background, and in its wake he can _feel_ what the other man is doing to him and it's… it's…

No. No. No. _No_.

And that's when the hand between his legs moves to start unfastening his pants, and Poe's mind just goes sideways in horror. He tries to struggle free, tries to resist, but he's held fast, and Kylo Ren is having none of it.

" _Stop_ ," the Darksider says, echoing Poe's plea but turning it into a command. A command, wrapped in tendrils of the Force, that suddenly freezes his body in place, holding him more firmly than those chains ever could. "Stop fighting me. Stop fighting yourself. _Give in_."

"Never. I won't. I won't. I…"

Which would be when that gloved hand wraps right around Poe's cock, and the whole world goes _black_. The other man has had his hand between Poe's legs several times before, but always just through clothing. Never… never…

"Please," he chokes, the word bitter on his lips. " _Don't_. I…"

"You cannot stop me. You… do not even want to."

And Kylo Ren starts to stroke him. The movements are rough, sharp, but practiced, and it's obvious the other man is paying careful attention to it. Obvious that he knows precisely how to get the reaction he wants. The touches send harsh sparks of pleasure chasing right through Poe's body, and he can't fight them back. Can't make them stop. Can't… can't deny the echoing flickers of need for _more_.

"Please… please…"

"Please what, Dameron? Please stop? Or… please _more_?"

Stop, Poe wants to say at once. Because… that's the answer. Isn't it? Of course it is.

Stop.

Stop.

But the word won't slip out.

"I asked you a question," Ren says, firmly. " _Answer me_."

A push in his mind, a tug with the Force, and… Poe can feel himself about to speak. He fights it as hard as he can, not out of simple defiance, but because he knows Ren is pulling the truth to the surface. Not the answer he wants to hear. The _truth_.

Though perhaps they're one and the same.

"… _More_ …" Poe whispers, brokenly, closing his eyes again.

Ren lets go of his head at that – physically, at least – and strokes fingers through his hair. Almost – almost – gentle, now. "That's it. That's it. Look at me."

But Poe won't. Not of his own volition. Ren doesn't even ask him again, and instead gives another tug with the Force, making him do it instead. Staring back at him, once he has, with eyes that are dark with pleasure.

"You're going to come _screaming_ , Dameron," he declares, so very surely. "You're going to come screaming, and wanting, and when you do… it will be because of me. Do you understand?"

Poe takes one last mental run-up, drawing on every ounce of strength he's got left. " _Get the **fuck** away from me_."

That gets him backhanded again, before the other man uses the grip on his cock to pull his hips forward, making him arch into the contact all the more.

" _No_ ," Ren tells him, flatly. "You're not in charge of this. You do not have a say. You do as I tell you. _Do you understand?_ "

"I understand that you're a cold-hearted psychopath…" Poe manages, but the words are hard to get out and his tone is less venomous, and more broken, when he speaks.

He's braced for another violent reaction – he is, if truth be told, probably asking for it at this point – so he's taken rather by surprise when, instead, Ren leans in close.

"You're so insolent. Most men in your position would simply be begging for mercy by this point. But you… even now, you still resist."

"There are… other men in my position?" Poe asks, without thinking. He doesn't know where the question has come from, and he tries not to let that show.

Ren smiles. "No. Just you. Does that thought please you?"

"Of course. I wouldn't want to think of anyone else having to go through this."

"Ah." The Darksider does not sound at all convinced. "Mere altruism, then."

"Something like that. I… _ohfuck_ …"

The words slip Poe's lips before he can stop them, as the other man very suddenly starts to stroke him harder. He drops his head back, a wave of pleasure getting the better of him, and… _fuck, fuck, he's enjoying this on some level_.

"S-stop," he gasps. He doesn't sound at all convincing. All the strength has gone from his legs and he's nigh-on hanging in the chains now, his wrists a near-blinding agony that his mind, somehow, isn't processing properly.

"I asked you a question, at the start of this," Ren reminds him, softly. "I asked if you were going insane with need yet. Are you?"

Poe closes his eyes. He is. He so very clearly is. But… he won't answer. Not out loud. He gives a broken little nod instead, the only concession he'll make.

"Say it," the other man pushes, stroking him harder, pulling him closer and closer to the bright edge of bliss.

"No…"

Ren's other hand laces back through Poe's hair, but only to hold, not to hurt. " _Say. It_."

It's too much. It's too much.

"… _Yes_ ," Poe gasps, brokenly. Honestly. "Yes. I… I…"

"You need this?"

The word gets easier each time he says it. Easier, but no less painful. "Yes."

And Kylo Ren smiles. " _Good_. Then you can _keep on_ needing."

Poe processes the threat in those words seconds before it's enacted; seconds before the other man lets go of him completely and steps back. He's so close to release that instinct makes him cry out in anguish, falling even lower in the chains.

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. The other man assaults him, and he protests when it _stops?_

"… _Please_ …" he whispers, dropping his head, no longer able to meet his captor's cold eyes.

"I told you I'd make you want this, Dameron. Perhaps now you believe me."

And, without another word, Kylo Ren picks up his mask, slips it back on, and stalks from the room.

***

That night is a special kind of torture.

Poe sits curled in his cell – dressed again, thank the Force – head resting against the wall. He can't sleep. His body is _burning_ with need and with memory, and his mind will not shut down in the face of it.

This is so wrong, he can't even process it. Not properly. Standard physical torture, he can understand. He can even work his thoughts around Kylo Ren's special brand of mental torture. But… at the end of the day, it's all to one end. Pain. Pain to motivate. Pain to extract. Pain… for its own sake.

So what is… whatever _this_ is? Is it just another way to hurt him? Or something more? Or…

The thoughts roll around and around, interspersed with the most intense physical craving. With mental images, hypotheticals, that he can't fight back.

_Being dragged into that room again, so Kylo Ren can finish what he started…_

Or… _the cell door springing open and the other man coming in here, pinning him to the wall with the Force, and taking…_

…No, no, no.

 _Yes_.

 **No**.

Poe hardly sleeps all night, and when he does, it is through fitful dreams that wake him constantly, each one kicking him back into reality with a painful jolt and a deep, aching sense of need.

He's longing for the end. Or… for something else entirely.

***

Poe doesn't resist when he's taken back to that dark room, the next day. He knows, on some level, that this means he _is_ giving in, but at the same time he can't summon up the energy to do it. He's exhausted, he's hurting, and he can't switch off the need in his head. Or in other places. He lets the troopers half-strip him again, lets them chain him up, and then, when they're gone… he just waits, with his head down.

It's several moments before he hears the door open, before Kylo Ren's heavy footsteps cut the cool, artificial air. Poe still won't look up. He hears the hiss and the click as the other man takes his helmet off, and he tries to suppress a shudder as his captor paces in closer.

He won't look up. He won't. One glance at his eyes, and Kylo Ren will know he's won. Will know that Poe Dameron is broken.

He'll know.

A hand slips under his chin and lifts his head, firmly but not roughly, and… their eyes meet. Poe can't stop it. Can't stop any of this.

Can't stop _wanting_ this.

"Are you going insane with it, yet?" Ren asks, softly. _Triumphantly_. "With _need_?"

"… _Yes_ …" Poe murmurs.

The other man smiles, eyes full of victory, and of delight. "Good," he whispers. "Good. Now. Should I leave, or..?"

Poe tries to drop his head back down, but Ren won't let him. Won't let him look away. "Answer me," the Darksider pushes, a dangerous little hint of threat in his tone.

"… _No_ ," Poe replies. "Don't… not again… I…"

Ren steps in closer, the hand under Poe's jaw sliding to hold the side of his head, and the other pushing between his legs. The instant he makes contact, Poe gasps, the shame in his tone overwhelmed by the need resting on top of it.

" _Please_ ," he says, but soundlessly, just moving his lips, although he can't help thinking it must sound like a scream through the Force, given the reaction it elicits in his captor's dark eyes.

"Beg me again."

" _ **Please**_." Somehow finding the voice for it this time.

That hand between his legs starts unfastening his pants, pushing clothing out of the way, before wrapping around his cock and starting to stroke him. _Hard_.

" _Oh_ ," he gasps, at the wave of pleasure that runs through his whole body. "Oh… that's…"

"Good?" Ren purrs. "Tell me the truth, Dameron."

Poe closes his eyes. "Yes. Yes."

 _So_ good.

And he won't last long like this. He knows it. His whole body is shaking, partly from the pain in his wrists, but mostly from the need blazing between his legs. From days of torment and denial. From the way it feels as that firm, rough hand works over his cock, knowing when to slow, when to speed up. Precisely where to apply pressure, to make him arch forwards.

To pull him apart.

"Are you close?" Ren asks him, softly, the words almost a breath over his lips.

He must already know, of course. Even without the Force, Poe's reactions aren't exactly subtle or hard to read. Terror flares in the pilot's heart, at the thought that the other man might be about to stop again. At the thought of another day and night beset by this agonising, desperate, mind-shatteringly- _wrong_ sense of need.

"Y-yes," he chokes.

" _Good_ ," the other man replies, with a smile.

And lets go of him. The denial is so crushingly awful that Poe cries out, eyes open to stare in desperation and pleading at Kylo Ren. Sure that this is it. Sure that he's about to watch the other man stalk away and leave him once more. Sure that it will destroy him.

Sure, somehow, that it already has.

He drops his head. "Please," he whispers, brokenly. " _Please_."

Footsteps. Movement. Abandonment. How will he–?

And that's when Kylo Ren steps in behind him, wrapping a hand around to start stroking him once more. It feels so good that Poe cries out again, in something like gratitude this time, his mind going hazy with hope and need in equal measure. Ren's free hand laces through his hair, pulling his head back to bare his throat, and the taller man's breath is hot against it as he presses in bodily, holding Poe still as he strokes him closer and closer to completion.

The pilot is falling apart. He knows it. He wants it. He can't stop it.

" _Come for me_ ," Ren growls in his ear. "Come, and know you've _broken_."

The words kick Poe over the edge, terrible, wonderful pleasure rushing through him like a hot, bright wave. It holds him on the cusp for an agonising instant, and then tips him right over, sending him tumbling into dark oblivion, screaming out in release as the other man keeps on stroking him, keeps on roughly pulling him apart.

And… then it's over, and he hangs, exhausted, in the chains, and in the other man's grip. Head down. Ashamed of how easily his captor reduced him to this. Ashamed… of the knowledge that he wants it to happen again.

He doesn't know what's going to happen next, though. And the thoughts that rise up, sudden, unbidden, are…

Ren lets go of him, and the chains holding him up unlatch at once. Unprepared, unbalanced, Poe drops straight to the floor, hitting it roughly and falling onto his back. Before he can even try to struggle up, the other man is on top of him, holding him still with the Force, pinning him in place and pressing in between his legs.

Fuck. This is what it looks like, isn't it? He's going to…

"Don't fight me," Ren tells him, firmly. "I can make this good for you, but only if you do as I say. Do you understand?"

Poe nods. He can't quite say it, but… he nods.

"Good. Good. Isn't this better when you don't resist?"

It is, though Poe won't say that, either.

The other man yanks his pants all the way down, pushing his legs further apart, and Poe gasps at being bared open like that, at the knowledge that he couldn't fight it if he tried. That this could be… would be…

…don't think it, don't think it…

Ren's hand goes to his own robes, now, pulling them open enough to let him unfasten his pants, freeing his cock, making it _quite_ clear just how turned on by all this he is. He strokes himself a couple of times, before tugging off his gloves and pulling something from one of his pockets.

It's a small bottle of lubricant. He clearly knew _exactly_ what he was planning when he came in here. He pours a little of it out, slicking his cock with it, and then… then he leans in, pressing in over his prisoner, staring down at him, and…

…and pushing into him, all at once, physically and mentally. Poe _screams_ in shock, but… it's mostly good shock. The pressure in his head is agony. The penetration between his legs is… _bliss_.

The counterpoint of the two almost whites his mind out.

"How does that feel? The truth, now."

"It… you…"

"Answer me."

"…Good. Feels good. Feels…"

So wrong, so wrong, so terribly, terribly wrong and – at the same time – so utterly _right_.

And Ren starts to fuck him, hard, keeping him held in place with the Force, still pushed inside his mind, tripping through his thoughts, his feelings, making the sensations spark brighter. It's hard to know for sure that the man isn't _creating_ those feelings, but… somehow, Poe knows he isn't. Knows they're his own. Knows that Ren is just having his way with them, the same as he's having his way with the helpless bundle of need beneath him.

"Do you like that?"

So many questions. The other man never seems to run out of them.

" _Yes_."

"Would you tell me to stop, if you had a choice?"

"…No…"

Ren's expression lights up with triumph. "No," he echoes, softly. "You wouldn't. You want this."

"Yes. Yes."

"Good. I want it, too."

Poe can feel his grip on reality starting to slide. His mind sinking deeper. Not from any push with the Force, not from any mental coercion, but… simply from the strength of the other man's will.

"You're mine now, Dameron. Mine."

Fuck. He is, isn't he?

And, on some level, some dark, terrible, twisted, undeniable level… he wants to be.

It doesn't take much longer for the other man to ride himself to completion, spilling deep inside Poe with a gasp, and a growl of ownership that might very well have kicked the pilot over the edge too, if there was anything left in him. But there isn't, so all he can do is let the feelings race through his mind and body alike, leaving him shaking beneath Kylo Ren, lost and needing and _taking_ whatever his captor chooses to give him.

When it's over, Ren meets his eyes. Poe almost expected him to simply get up and walk away at this point, so he's taken by surprise when that doesn't happen.

"You belong to me, now. I know you will keep fighting that fact. And _you_ know I will keep pushing back until you accept it without question. Because… it is true."

He leans in closer, his words a hot breath across Poe's lips. "I told you that you would shatter. And now… I get to put the pieces back together just the way I want them…"

A smile. A smile that, for the first time, isn't merely cold. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Poe Dameron whispers. "Yes. I understand."

It's been inevitable from the start. From the moment Poe knew he was alone in this.

The moment he knew no one was coming after him.

The moment he was disavowed.

The thing about torture is that it's never all physical.

And, contrary to what people may tell you, sometimes… it works.


End file.
